Now, I know we’ve already established how very uncool I was in grade school. But let’s focus instead on the ridiculous weirdness that made me special among the outcasts who didn’t play kickball every lunch hour on the playground.

Now, as a young child under the age of 10, I wasn’t really ALLOWED to watch things like MTV and R-rated horror movies per say…but let’s be honest here and say that just because it wasn’t allowed when Mom was around didn’t mean it didn’t happen. Sisters and babysitters and aunts and elderly next-door neighbors were all over that shizz like white on rice.

So it happened that Leprechaun (check it out on Netflix, kids) made its way into the barrows of my mind. It quickly became one of my favorite movies, what with Jennifer Aniston’s adorableness and Willow Warwick Davis playing a wickedly greedy leprechaun. Fun facts: Warwick Davis has been in SEVERAL of my favorite movies and TV shows, including Star Wars, Willow, Labyrinth, Harry Potter, The 10th Kingdom, Doctor Who, and Leprechaun.

With my near-eidetic memory, I could very easily recall the whole of the movie, including key dialogue and the most interesting of scenes. Which was INCREDIBLY lucky for the kids on the playground. For the better part of a week, I gathered a small group of my most easily entertained peers near the far swing set for the dramatic performance of a lifetime. From start to finish, I acted out the entire movie in a one-man show of sorts with dialogue, live action and yes, voices. I was brilliant for a 10-year-old.

A couple months ago, I was practicing yoga on the very playground where I acted out The Leprechaun – those swings were my audience’s seating.

My classmates were amused, engaged, and excited to have access to such a timeless classic movie, and I was entirely convinced this was the start to my acting career. As evident by my listing on IMDB (yes, that is, in fact, me…I should probably try to get a picture up there so directors can see my Oscar-worthy mug, right?), I’m definitely going places, y’all.

After the curtain closed on The Leprechaun, I attempted to reenact a few other movies that my childhood friends hadn’t gotten their grubby little paws on, but nothing had the engagement power like The Leprechaun. Not even Leprechaun 2, which you can also find on Netflix.

So why don’t you make a day of it tomorrow, in honor of my birthday, and watch the entire Leprechaun franchise on Netflix? I hear Leprechaun in the Hood makes for a great drinking game.

Blog Friends, what did YOU do on the playground? What are you watching on Netflix? Have you seen Leprechaun?

While this is not a sponsored post, Netflix hooked me up with a year’s subscription and a device on which to watch movies I used to reenact as a child. But I was a Netflix subscriber long before joining the Stream Team. So there’s that.

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

Quick intro/disclaimer of awesome: I’m working with the NRA (That’s National RESTAURANT Association) and Triberr to talk about healthy eating, especially with kiddos, through the Kids LiveWell Program. Everything I say, I do believe, but for the record, the NRA has sponsored this campaign post.

Okay, so I’ve been Dietbetting with Joules and Kari and a whole lot of YOU this last week and a half. In addition to the Pocketful of Quirky Grace DietBet, I’m also participating in the Transformer DietBet-a six month commitment to lose 10% of Chrissy. And my real goal? More than 10%. Because I used to be healthier. And I want to be healthier again.

So far, I’ve lost 4.5 lbs. I’m weighing in weekly, instead of daily or multiple times a week. This is best for my weight loss, so that I don’t see the regular ups and downs of a typical week. If my weigh-in shows that I gained a pound this week, I’m still down by 3.5 and if I lose more…well YAY! I’ll be keeping you posted on Wednesdays from now on.

These days, I have some pretty healthy habits. I love vegetables. I love lean proteins. (Okay and cheese). I don’t eat a lot of pasta or breads…but I have a tendency to overdo it on the snacks. And the sweets. Those are my kryptonite.

But I didn’t always have healthy habits.

One of the things I forever think about is my chubby childhood. I was never the tiniest girl in school, not by a long shot. I ate a lot of McDonald’s. In fact, I could eat more McDonald’s as a kid than I could eat right now. I can remember my grandfather taking us to Mickey D’s and ordering a value meal because a Happy Meal just wasn’t filling enough. And you bet your bottom I super sized it. And ate every bite.

Sure, I wasn’t fat…but I was one of the biggest kids in my class. That’s tough on a little kid.

From the age of 8, I was always on the go, whether we were heading to or from cheer practice to this event to that party, I had a pretty busy life. So fast food was definitely a thing for us. But it wasn’t just fast food chains…my family ate out…a lot. Not because my parents couldn’t cook or didn’t want to (they were/are excellent cooks), but because going out was a family thing that we did. And I wouldn’t have had it any other way. That’s where my brother and I gained our passion for fine dining. Our love of delicious food. Our tact and class when it comes to behaving in a restaurant.

What I would have changed-would have LOVED to change-would be the choices that were available for me. At 9-years-old I was a connoisseur of chicken fingers and honey mustard sauce. I ordered chicken fingers every. where. we went. And the honey mustard sauce was a big deal. I’d eat it by the bowlful. Because that was what the restaurants had. Chicken fingers. Cheeseburgers. Mac and cheese. French fries.

With the Kids LiveWell Program, sponsored by the National Restaurant Association, restaurants across the country are offering healthy and delicious options for kids (and adults too!) You remember my amazing breakfast sandwich from Denny’s right? They’re working to make healthy choices for kiddies so that they can start building those healthy eating habits right from the start.

This Saturday, at the NRA Show in Chicago, bloggers will be meeting the restaurateurs and chefs behind the new and exciting healthy kids meals. Will you follow along with me on social media with the #KidsLiveWell?

Follow Kids LiveWell on social media (Twitter and Facebook) for updated news, information and more! You can also find out if your favorite restaurant is a participating Kids LiveWell restaurant and start making healthy choices for you AND your family!

Do you wish they had healthier choices when you were a kid? Do you have kids and try to make healthy choices for them when dining out? What do you think of KidsLiveWell?

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

Last week, Brian and I bought several boxes of candy from our Girl Scout connection. I got to thinking about Girl Scouts and my own experiences…

I was a girl scout. And a boy scout (but that’s a tale for another time). And pretty much…I was awesome, apparently. I remember being in first grade, and joining up with Brownie Troop 182. I also remember when my mom became a troop leader, and got us into all sorts of crafts and fun things. So in honor of the new Girl Scout flavored creamers from Coffee Mate and their adorable new representative, Abby from River Falls, Wisconsin (the best cheese state on the planet,) I’m going to go ahead and tell you all of the great things I learned from being a Girl Scout.

Francis Scott Key wrote the Star Spangled Banner. I’m not even joking you guys, I never would have remembered this if it weren’t for some flag ceremony we did in 1st grade in which I remember my one line of, “It was written by Francis Scott Key.”

How to make a pizza. My mom knew the manager of Domino’s Pizza, so we got to go over there and make our own pizzas! It was super fun.

Life long friendships? Totally possible. I know this because I’m still friends with my very best friend from grade school/the old neighborhood/ballet/Brownies/cheerleading. Even when you add new people to your world, you can always have the friends you started with.

How to identify animal tracks in the snow. We went out into some wildlife preserves and followed tracks. Mom’s kinda nature-lady…

How to sell like a boss. I’m not in sales, but let me tell you. If I was…LOOK OUT, world. I could sell sand in a dessert. Or Girl Scout flavored Coffee-Mate Creamer on a blog…not that I’m trying or anything. *wink wink* Seriously, though…unlike a lot of kids today, my parents didn’t sell the cookies for me. Even though they owned a bar, I had to march in there by myself and walk up to every. Single. Person. And ask them if they wanted to buy some girl scout cookies. I was persistent. And always sold a ton.

So about those creamers…

Omigod. SO good. We’ve got some SERIOUS coffee fiends in my office (Thank God for free coffee.) On my team, we drink a lot of coffee. And we were definitely tired of powdered creamer…so when these delightful add-ins arrived..thrilled doesn’t begin to cover it. We have Caramel Delight (caramel coconut) and Thin Mint in the office right now, and my entire team is consuming it super-fast (because I’m nice, and when I receive delicious free products in the mail delivered to my office from Coffee-Mate…I share them.) They’re definitely a hit with everyone! My one co-worker wants to pour the creamer over ice cream. I’m not going to lie…That’s in my plan of things to try in the near future.

When I was a kid, I would use my allowance to buy my own boxes of Caramel Delights. And then hide them so my boy babysitter didn’t eat them all in one sitting (like he did that one time…) This creamer brings me RIGHT BACK to that joy. That delicious cookie joy.

By the way, did you catch the commercial for Thin Mint Coffee-Mate? Because it’s HILARIOUS. Ambitious Girl Scout, Abby, rocked with her snarky ‘tude directed at corporate office guy. You can see the video on the Coffee-Mate website. Trust me. TOTALLY worth it. I like to think I was that sassy when I was 10.

For the record? Just because Coffee-Mate hooked me up with some tasties, doesn’t mean that these opinions weren’t all me.

Blog Friends, were you Boy Scouts, Girl Scouts, Campfire Boys/Girls, Indian Princesses or the like? What did you learn?

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

This week’s Monday Memories is all about books! My story is a short, but sweet one…and by sweet, I mean I had a teacher who didn’t know who she was dealing with…and by that, clearly I mean my mom.

(Note to Mom: If I get this wrong according to the story in your head…just you know…keep it to yourself 😉 )

In 3rd grade, back when I didn’t have a large collection of chapter books for kids, I would read children’s books. Rapidly. I mean, I also chewed through Ramona Quimby, Fudge, Roald Dahl, The Babysitters Club, and other kid-themed books faster than a lot of kids…But sometimes, I would read several books in one night. Especially if they were my Little Golden Books.

There was all that Book-It stuff in which you got free Pizza Hut personal pan pizzas for reading books. And we got extra credit for the more books we read. I’ve always been a fan of extra credit. Always. Of course, upon reporting these to my 3rd grade teacher, she thought I was making shit up.

When my parents went in for parent teacher conferences? She told them I was a liar and had a problem. So my mom asked, what does she lie about. She says she reads all of these books and it’s impossible to read that much. (Bad teachers don’t do research on the names of the books that kids are reading. Bad teachers assume that the kids are telling the truth that the book titles they list exist, unless of course, there are too many books on the list. THEN, those kids are liars. Bad teachers tell parents that they’re doing a piss poor job of raising a kid who stays up late at night to read books instead of sleep.)

I’m pretty sure my mom went off on her. She was already holding a grudge that I wasn’t in the “gifted” program at school. I just made my own gifted program. By reading more than anyone else. Whatevs. I was reading flipping picture books and writing that shit down. Documentation, my friends. Documentation.

Speaking of which, I wish I still had that shit.

I’ve been reading in this chair since I was old enough to read. It lived in my Gram’s house for years…she gave it to me when I grew up, because she knew I loved it so much.

Want more bookish memories? Go visit Lily over at It’s a Dome Life. I swear she and I are kindred spirits. If you like me, you’ll love her!

Tell me your favorite bookish memory? What was your favorite book when you were a kid?

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

That’s right friends, It’s Day 100 here at the wonderful world of Quirky Chrissy. 100 blog posts. 100 stories. 100 times Chrissy. So I’m stoked. Plus I’ve got a super special announcement…

But anyways, Day 100…

It makes me think of the early days of elementary school, when there was a song/jingle dedicated to Day 100 (sung to the tune of “It’s a Small World”), everyone was asked to bring in 100 of something small that could fit into a gallon sized ziplock bag, and we got cookies shaped like 100.

Why Day 100 was such a celebration, I’ll never know…but the vision of 5 year old Chrissy, bringing in a bag of 100 bottle caps (yes–BEER bottle caps) is priceless. Oh yes, folks, in addition to creating a picture of my future self as a bartender (when prompted to draw what we wanted to be when we grew up) at the tender age of five, I managed to bring in a giant bag of beer-soaked bottle caps.

But yeah. Bottle caps. Most kids brought in paper clips or pennies…I brought in bottle caps. And I’m pretty sure it was my idea. And by the time I was five…if I had an idea, I wasn’t going to let anyone tell me differently. Just like the time I decided I was never going to love a pair of jeans the way I loved my paint splatter ones in kindergarten…and refused to wear jeans for the next five years…Or the many times that I stubbornly refused to take off the adorable red floral summer skirt that I loved…in December. When I had no matching shirt. With red cowboy boots.

A *used* copy of The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn (I buy them used…lots of them…it’s good practice so that when the gov’ment decides that they’re no longer appropriate or wants to change things, I can still distribute the good stuff)

A surprise pack of goodies from Trader Joe’s that includes cheese, cookies, and other favorites. (Unfortunately, it’s not easy to send really delicious cheese…so cheese flavored products will have to suffice)

And now, to announce the winner!

I put your names into a hat

Brian as my witness, I promise I didn’t cheat!

And the winner is…

Lily from It’s a Dome Life!!!!

Brian kept snapping pictures…

So I hammed it up-photo shoot style…

And did the funniest thing that I could think of…It’s raining contestants!

So congrats to Miss Lily, for her excellence in whoring out my little blog, (she got the most entries, so the odds were already in her favor, people) and winning the random hat drawing!

I would take a picture of the prize pack, but as you’ll see I didn’t really give the details of the pack…

I’ve found that it’s more fun to receive a box of unknown goodies…then it’s like Christmas!

In conclusion, happy Day 100! Lily, congrats on winning the prize pack! Stay tuned for more fun. More excitement. And oh right… I did promise a special announcement…

Coming Soon: Quirky Chrissy: The Foodie Section

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

When I was about 9 or 10, 3 of us were sharing a bed. Sleeping staggered. The girl who was sleeping directly next to me heard me, in the middle of the night, say, “Oh no you don’t!”

This may not sound like a fight…but when I woke up with a little bruise on my arm, and the girl whose feet were near me shoulder woke up with a bruise the size of Texas, we did the math…whoops!

Another time, when my cousin, sister, and I were having a slumber party, I was always the first to fall asleep. I like my sleep. But I woke up one night, and started yelling at them. “Where’s my pen!?!? I know you have it! Where is it?!?!” I swear I’m not crazy… I was just dreaming.

When Brian and I first started dating, I talked in my sleep a lot. I would have whole conversations that didn’t make a whole lot of sense. I don’t do that anymore, but I do occasionally still punch him in my sleep. Which wakes us both up. I don’t mean to do it…but my hand will somehow end up on his head or chest, which terrifies him to awake mode, and in a panic he calls out and wakes me up in a panic. It’s mostly a big ole mess.

Not only do I start fights, but I also steal covers. Anyone who has ever shared a bed with me knows this. My girlfriends can all attest to my bedtime bully tendencies. Brian and I usually have our own set over covers so that neither of us end up shivering…

And of course, that’s still not all…I’ve accidentally pushed people out of bed in my sleep. Clearly it wasn’t intentional, but still rather unpleasant all the same.

I don’t mean to beat up on the sleeping…I mean…I’ve even had my own fair share of falls out of bed. (One time I woke up in a pile of comforters chewing on my blankie.)

But you know what? I blame the badger face. (The badger face is this horrible face that I make when I sleep.) People are always so judgmental of the badger face that sleep induced Chrissy is worried that everyone is secretly judging her in her sleep. Which obviously, they are. Jerks.

So I’m a bedtime bully.

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

When I was 8, my grandfather was diagnosed with a skin cancer called malignant melanoma, By the time they found it, it had already metastasized in other places and the outlook was not so promising. I remember him being sick, and sometimes he was all there…other times he was not.

I don’t remember a whole lot of the bad stuff, but I remember shortly before he passed away, he gave Mom some money to “go buy the kids something.” So we went to Walgreens and another store. I got a pair of shoes that I loved and a mini Christmas tree (20 years later, I still put it up religiously). My brother also got a mini Christmas tree and something else.

I also remember the day that he died. We were at the hospital. I hugged him. He told me he loved me. He used to call me Christinie Christinie Jelliebeanie (which is why I occasionally use the pseudonym Jelliebean and why Penny calls me Bean). We went home to the house, with the intention to return. My uncle called and told us that he would be gone before we came back. But we had said our goodbyes, so it was okay. I remember it being sad, but I don’t think I cried. I didn’t cry a whole lot then. I guess that in my adulthood, I’ve made up for my lack of childhood tears.

At my grandfather’s wake, tons of people showed up. I was a kid, and there was a play area. So I wanted to play. I didn’t quite realize what was going on. When my school pals showed up with their moms, I would ask if they wanted to play with me, but the moms would all look at me funny, and say that they were just there for a short time and needed to pay their respects. I just wanted to eat cookies and play with toys.

Of course, the day of the funeral came, and I remember my older cousin Jennifer crying a lot. I didn’t understand. I realized then that I should be crying too. So I tried to cry. But I couldn’t. So I just sat there with her. Wishing I could cry.

Yup; cancer sucks.

Last night, my Chicago Bears (and those pesky Dallas Cowboys) were the first to sport their pink shoes and accessories to show their support for Breast Cancer Awareness…Yes, that’s right, you’re about to get splashed hard with the pink bug. October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month. A disease that my family knows all too well. My sister (who, by blood, is actually my dad’s cousin’s daughter) recently had most of her lady parts removed because she has the breast cancer gene. Her mother, her grandmother, her aunts, her cousins–all my family, too–have been affected.

Now, it’s on both sides of my family. Fucking breast cancer.

Today, I’m asking the blogosphere to send out good Juju to my family. Whatever works for you is happily accepted here. Prayers, thoughts, well-wishes, good juju. From the bottom of my heart, thanks.

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

In the spirit of Confession Friday (which I learned about thanks to the The Word Worm), I’ve decided to offer you some really great (read: the worst ever) pictures of my existence. In fact, if you enjoy them…let me know. I’m not short on “classy” photos of my chubby childhood. I could make this a fun Friday thing.

My First Communion

Allow me to explain to non Catholics the basics of First Communion. In the 2nd grade, Catholic children, who’ve been guilted by their mothers since birth, make this right of passage into the church. This is when they start accepting communion (Jesus) into their bodies.

Second grade was a really awkward time for me. Apparently, even though I had attended first grade CCD, 2nd grade was too full and Mom couldn’t enroll me in the class. They told her that I could make my communion next year. Obviously, my very Catholic mother would have none of that. Soooo, she pulled a trick that only a woman in my family could pull. She pitched seven fits until the Director of CCD and Father Valente had to do something.

They gave my mom the second grade CCD student and teacher books, and she “home-schooled” my religious education in the 2nd grade. Once a week, or every couple of weeks, we would sit down and go through the lessons in the book. Some weeks we would cover several lessons, other weeks just one lesson. Either way, this felt like a torturous experience for a severely awkward seven-year-old who really just wanted to go play with her friends.

When it came time for Communion preparation, I had to do it all on my own (I mean, my parents were there and all–but no kids. No classmates. No peers.) So, the second grade teacher had made a cassette tape of the songs we would sing at the Communion Mass, that I practiced with. Mom and Dad took me to my First Confession. Mom and her best friend, Kathy, took me to get my First Communion dress. I got to pick out the dress and a veil. That part, I loved.

Then came Communion practice. My first interaction with the other second graders. I knew some from school, and some from the previous year, but mostly they were strangers to me. To make an awkward child even more angsty, Mom informed me that I was not allowed to touch Jesus. This meant that while my peers would be taking the Communion into their hands, I would be taking it into my mouth. During practice, I was to test this out. I was so nervous and embarrassed for myself that I couldn’t see straight. The catechist running the practice looked at me a little funny when I didn’t have my hand reached out, because that’s not what he had explained…but he caught on quickly. Later, this would become, in my head, something kinda neat that I did during mass, and I was proud of it…but at the time, it was so embarrassing.

Finally, the day of my Communion arrived. I barely remember the actual day. I know that I was there. I know that I made it through. I remember the priest who offered me Communion had an impressed look upon his face when he did not see my hands reaching toward him, but my open mouth. I remember that there was a party, and that was fun.

Mom made me stand like that…

A pretty white dress and flowers, but I look anything but thrilled to be there…

I took the liberty of attempting that surly look in my present… here’s what came out.

Grrr Baby. Grrr.

And so now, my godson is on the cusp of his second grade year. About to make his First Communion. My mom actually taught him 1st grade CCD this summer so that he could sign up to be in the second grade class. He seems excited and interested. I think he’ll be a lot less awkward than his Auntie Chrissy. Thank God.

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

When I was in the fourth grade I did something unbelievably stupid. One of those things that you sit there for hours looking back on and think to yourself, why in God’s name did I do that? It’s even worse, when you don’t remember how you did it.

I vaguely remember being downstairs in our powder room, but after that it’s all a blur of nothingness. But I know that I did it. I remember the aftermath. I remember my mother SCREAMING at me for what I had done…but when she asked me why I did what I did, I told her (quite truthfully) through sobbing tears that I didn’t know.

I had no idea that I had even done it, let alone why the hell my stupid ass did it. I mean really, what nine-year-old cuts a giant bald spot in the crown of her head? And doesn’t even realize it. I had really bad bangs back then (it was the early nineties, so cut me a little slack), and was likely making some valiant attempt at trimming what one of my college best friends lovingly dubbed “the radar dome.”

Proof of the “radar dome” bangs

All I know is that with scissors in hand, I ran upstairs to my mother and informed her of the unfortunate situation that was my lack of hair in a circular section on the top of my head. It was bad. Real bad.

Luckily, moms are known for their quick thinking and improvisation skills. Not to worry, I had plenty of thick banded headbands to hide this silly spot. No one would ever know. Well, until I told my grade school best friend, Kelly. My mistake, I know…but I was nine.

Now, I can’t confirm how this happened for sure, but since kids are mean, even to their friends, and girls love to gossip, even when they’re nine, I’m pretty sure it went something like this: She told one girl, and several boys overheard, and before the day was out the entire fourth grade knew about my stupid bald spot.

I don’t remember much else, other than an out of body experience watching the events unfold in the lunch room and the unfortunate small blond child by the name of Taylor Smitty (whose real name has haunted me for years whenever I think of the cruelty of children in my own coming-of-age, but I have created a pseudonym for-because I am nicer than he was).

Young Taylor, the clever little boy that he was, decided that because I was the chubby kid, and I made a huge judgment error as a result of my then too-trusting nature, this would be the perfect opportunity to bring me to the front line of teased and taunted children at Madison Elementary. So, that day at recess, in front of the entire class, he proclaimed me the bald elephant. (I told you he was clever–because obviously a bald eagle wouldn’t make additional commentary on my small weight problem.) I vaguely remember my headband being torn off my head to showcase my new ‘do.

This teasing went on for several weeks, and not once did I cry. In fact, for years after this torment, I neither cried, nor trusted a single soul with a secret. I was done with the miscreants of grade school.

Were you ever bullied? Did you ever do something ridiculously stupid without realizing the repercussions?

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

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